


While You Wait for the Others

by Lila82



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lila82/pseuds/Lila82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy, Finn, and the end of everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While You Wait for the Others

The tunnels are shallow, hastily dug, but they’re enough to keep out the blast if not the aftermath.

Bellamy can feel it everywhere, in his mouth and on his skin, burying the world in a thin layer of black dust.

He rolls to his back and takes a deep gasping breath, because he made it against all odds. _He_ made it. He coughs and hacks, a film of blackness coating his throat. 

He’s alive and all he feels is death burning his lungs.

 

* * *

 

He finds Finn first. 

He’s sprawled a few feet away, hair splayed across the uneven dirt, and there’s a scratch on his cheek but he’s otherwise whole.

Bellamy crouches over him, his hand shaking before he presses two fingers to Finn’s neck. There’s a pulse there, slow and weak, but steady. 

He let out another breath, this one a bit cleaner, but the ash still rasps through his chest. He’s not alone. His world was literally blown to bits but he’s not alone. It’s more than he ever expected, more than he knows he deserves. 

Still, he can’t hold back a bitter laugh as he slumps against a rough wall and props his chin on his knees while he waits. 

So many dead and Finn is all he has left.

 

* * *

 

They need water. 

It’s the first thing they argue about. 

There are plans to make, but not before basic needs. It’s the first thing Bellamy learned from Clarke and he doesn’t give in.

Finn grumbles the entire way to the river but Bellamy ignores him, concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other. Everything hurts, from the inside out, but he keeps going. He knows it’s what Clarke would have done.

Winter is coming but Bellamy doesn’t feel the chill when he walks into the water. He sinks to his haunches and lets the current fall over him, stays so long that his calves cramp and he can’t feel his toes. He likes the smoothness of the rocks beneath his feet and the sediment ghosting over his skin. He likes that the water runs cool and clear. He likes that when he takes a deep, gulping breath he only tastes the river on his tongue. 

It’s Finn who pulls him back, reminds him why they’re there. “Bellamy, it’s time. You’re going to freeze to death.” A beat, then a pause. “Please? I can’t do this alone.”

Finn’s standing in the shallows, but his feet are bare and his hair is wet and there are drops of water clinging to his bare arms. Bellamy nods and rises to his feet, ignores the goose bumps flaring up over every inch of bare skin, and pads to his clothes.

“What’s the plan?” Finn asks, keeps his eyes trained on the river while Bellamy dresses. Two days ago there would have been jokes – cold water, after all – but it’s two days later and there’s only moving forward. 

Bellamy shrugs into his jacket. “We kill them all.”

Finn’s head snaps up. “Seriously? You saw what war did to us. They’re dead, Bellamy. They’re all dead, and you want more?”

Bellamy laces his boots, pushes his wet hair back from his face. “What else do we have to lose?” He starts for the camp, pauses when he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him. “You coming?”

There’s a curse, but then the steady tread of Finn’s boots. No one wants to be left behind.

 

* * *

 

There’s nothing for them in camp. 

It’s ashes and dust and charred bones, blackened faces and sunken eyes and wide, grinning mouths.

The dropship is empty and they’re out of gunpowder anyway, but they do salvage a few canteens and some blankets.

It’s getting dark and Bellamy doesn’t want to stay there, but sleeping in the open isn’t an option either. He tosses a blanket at Finn. “We’ll have to bed down here tonight. Get cozy.”

Finn blinks, like he finally realizes where they are, and picks up the blanket but shakes his head. “We’ll go to Lincoln. He has food, medicine. He’ll help us.”

A familiar anger curls in Bellamy’s chest. “You knew where he was.” 

“You would have killed him.” Finn stands up a bit taller and meets Bellamy’s gaze head on.

As quickly as it appeared, the fight goes out of him, because finding Lincoln means seeing Octavia. “He has my sister,” Bellamy says, ignores the way his voice shakes. “I never thought I’d see her again.”

Finn’s posture relaxes. “I can take you to her.”

They’re the best words Bellamy has ever heard him say. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Finn says in return, shoulders his pack and heads for the exit. “You coming?”

Bellamy manages a weak smile and pushes to his feet, follows Finn into the forest. 

It’s the second lesson he learned from Clarke – there’s no weakness in letting someone else lead the way.

 

* * *

 

It’s a short walk to Lincoln’s camp, too close to what’s left of his camp for Bellamy to let it go entirely, but he’s not complaining. There’s no sacrifice too large when it comes to Octavia.

Finn stops at a tangle of branches and makes a noise that sounds something like a birdcall; someone on the other side calls back.

“Is there a secret handshake too?” Bellamy asks.

Finn glares at him and crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t say anything but Bellamy recognizes the arrogant tilt of his head. The tight ball in his chest loosens a bit. He understands these roles, particularly how badly he wants to knock that sanctimonious look off Finn’s face.

He doesn’t, because he knows better, but also because Lincoln appears, torch in hand. Octavia isn’t with him, but Bellamy spots her the moment he steps into the cave, curled under a blanket and sipping tea.

Her eyes light up when she sees him, and she can’t move well, but she opens her arms and Bellamy wraps her in his. “You’re okay?” he asks, cups her face in his hands and slides his eyes over the wound in her side. 

She smiles and looks at Lincoln, eyes soft and warm. Bellamy knows that look, feels the knot tighten in his chest. “Lincoln took care of me, just like he said he would.”

Lincoln doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes matches Octavia’s. The knot doesn’t loosen, but Bellamy thinks it could, some day, especially if Lincoln keeps looking at his sister like she’s the only woman on earth. 

“Why are you here?” Lincoln finally asks, shifts his gaze to Bellamy and Finn. “I promised to look after Octavia. Why aren’t you with your people?”

Bellamy remembers why he hated the Grounder in the first place. “Our people are gone,” he snarls, doesn’t bother to keep the anger out of his voice. Lincoln might care for his sister, but the rest of them weren’t always so lucky.

Lincoln only nods in response but Octavia knows them both, brother and lover, and fills in the gaps Lincoln couldn’t. “They’re not dead, Bell.” 

“We were at the dropship,” Finn says, utters the words Bellamy can’t bring himself to say. “We saw the bodies.”

Lincoln’s face twists. “My people, not yours. When the fire died down, I went back to look for survivors. They were taken.”

“Taken?” Bellamy asks. “What does that even mean?”

Octavia interrupts softly. “Lincoln, tell them what you told me.” She’s patient, quietly waiting, and Bellamy doesn’t recognize this side of his sister. 

Lincoln nods, tries to explain. “The Mountain Men took them. They’ve been picking us off for years, but they took them all at once.

“There are people on Mount Weather?” Finn asks. He’s pacing across the back end of the cave, his boots rhythmically scraping through the dirt. It’s irritating, but Bellamy ignores him. He’s gotten good at it since they landed in this place.

“They have guns and gas,” Octavia breaks in. “Modern technology.” She catches her brother’s eye. “Our technology.” She turns her gaze to Finn. “You were at the dropship…was there anything left?”

Finn stops pacing, runs his hands through his hair. “Just canteens and blankets. All the guns were gone.” 

“And you know what Murphy did to our gunpowder,” Bellamy reminds her. “We have nothing.”

“There’s strength in numbers,” Lincoln reminds them and even Finn looks at him like he has two heads. Lincoln stares back. “Your ship? It landed last night.”

“The Ark,” Finn says softly. “He’s right. There will be soldiers.”

“The Ark is here?” Bellamy feels more irritation bubble through his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Finn sighs. “There was a lot going on – ”

Bellamy takes a step forward, barely notices the fist clenching against his hip. Octavia jumps up, palm pressed to her bandage, and steps between them. “Stand down, boys,” she says. She winces and Bellamy reaches for her, but she waves him off. “I’m fine.” She sweeps her eyes over Bellamy and Finn. “You’re idiots.” 

She’s right, as she often is, and neither apologizes but they don’t pick open the fight again either. They keep their eyes trained on the floor as she pads back to her pallet.

“Okay,” Bellamy says, scratches a map in the dirt. “Let’s do this.”

Finn squats down beside him and even Lincoln joins in. Anya and Tristan’s army has been broken, but there are are still Grounders out there. Reapers too. Lincoln doesn’t offer to come with them, but he does point out traps and safe zones and after an hour they have a solid plan in place.

Bellamy tries to remember “whatever the hell we want” but it feels like another life, even further away than the years he spent in space. It’s hard to believe he ever thought it was all about him. 

He rolls to his side and closes his eyes and all he hears is Clarke’s voice in his head, reminding him what it means to lead. There are eighty-two lives in his hands. He has to at least try.

 

* * *

 

Dawn is beautiful. 

There were always distractions in camp, but out here there’s nothing but the warm glow of the sun creeping up on the moon. 

Finn is still asleep and Bellamy doubts that Lincoln didn’t notice, but he also didn’t stop Octavia from creeping outside to watch the sunrise with her brother.

She shuffles towards him, but smiles wide when she slowly lowers herself to the ground. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Too much to do,” he says, even though he really means that too much could go wrong.

Octavia nods, and she stays quiet while she sits by his side and watches the sky turn from deep navy to milky red.

“She’d be proud of you,” she finally says, keeps her eyes trained on the burning orange of the sky.

“Who? Clarke?” Bellamy asks. There’s no other woman it could be. 

Octavia laughs, but shakes her head. “You wish. I mean mom. She’d be so proud of what you’re doing.”

Bellamy swallows hard. He barely recognizes himself, let alone the boy his mother knew. “There’s a lot of blood on my hands,” he reminds his sister.

She takes a moment to contemplate. “There’s blood on all our hands. Maybe if I hadn’t pushed so hard, Atom would have stayed behind. Maybe if I’d listened more, I wouldn’t have gotten caught.” She pauses, sucks in a shaky breath. “Her death is on me as much as you.” She takes his hand, holds it between hers. “You’ve changed, Bell. You can do this, not because you need to but because you want to. That’s what mom taught us. That’s why she’d be proud.”

Bellamy wraps an arm around Octavia, even smiles a little when she rests her head on his shoulder. “They’re my people,” he tells his sister because it’s really that simple. If he understands anything, it’s looking after what’s his.

“They’re _our_ people,” Octavia corrects him and Bellamy hears Clarke in the stubborn tone her voice, reminding him that he isn’t in this alone. 

There’s a noise behind them, and when they turn Finn is there, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Lincoln appears too, pressing his lips to Octavia’s forehead just as the sun crests in the sky, and it feels like a sign.

Bellamy turns to Finn, likes the determined set of his jaw. “Let’s go save our people.”

 

* * *

 

It’s not a long trip to the Ark landing site, and Finn’s tracking skills put him in the lead as Bellamy follows, fingers wrapped around the hilt of a knife that Lincoln gave him.

Neither of them say much but they do use hand signals to communicate. Like when they stumble on a creek and Finn makes a motion like he’s chugging Monty’s moonshine. 

They stop and dutifully fill their canteens, sit a moment on the rocks to stretch their legs. Still, the quiet surrounds them.

“What are you going to say?” Finn finally asks and breaks through the silence. 

Bellamy keeps his eyes focused on the clear, cool water. “To you?”

Finn shakes his head. “We’re heading to the Ark, Bellamy. The flares failed and three hundred twenty people died. What do you say to the survivors?”

Bellamy feels that familiar urge to punch Finn in the face. Stronger this time, angrier too. He doesn’t care if they never like each other, but he’d thought they’d reached an understanding. “The hell, Finn?”

Finn looks at him and there’s something aching and painful lurking in those dark eyes and it’s the only thing that keeps Bellamy’s fist from flying. “We never talk about it, but I wasted a month of oxygen. That’s another month someone could have lived.” Finn pauses, and the look in his eyes shifts to something fierce. “I don’t push back to be annoying, but I can’t have another person’s death on me.”

Bellamy’s fist eases and he realizes a wrong he needs to set right. “Thank you,” he says. “I probably owe you my life.”

Finn shrugs. “You would have done the same.”

Bellamy’s not sure that’s true, at least not for the boy he was, so he turns the conversation to the real reason Finn tried to save the day. “The princess is important.”

“Yeah, well she relies on you.”

Bellamy shoots a pointed look in Finn’s direction. “She relies on you too.”

Finn’s jaw tightens angrily. “She closed the doors on us. I’m having some trouble getting past that.”

A few months ago, Bellamy would have too, but he understands now. “When you’re in charge, it stops being about you. You do what you have to do and try to fix it later.”

“So you forgive her?”

Bellamy shrugs, but his words are true. “I shut the door on her too.” 

Finn is quiet again, kicks absently at the dirt. “Sometimes I’m really glad I’m not in charge.”

It was never an option for Bellamy, not when his mother laid Octavia in his arms or a hundred teenagers fell from the sky. His life has always been about the hard choices. He’s grateful that he’s starting to make the right ones. “C’mon,” he says. “We don’t want to lose the light.”

Finn straightens, shoulders his canteen. This time, he lets Bellamy lead.

 

* * *

 

It’s near dark when they arrive at what’s left of the Ark.

They figured they’d find a damaged ship, but also anticipated three thousand citizens waiting to greet them.

They find less than fifty, mostly civilians, but two council members keeping order. There are no soldiers and for a long moment, there’s no hope. 

But Bellamy’s been here before and made do each time. There isn’t another option. 

He doesn’t recognize any of the faces, but Finn is shaking hands with a couple men dressed in mechanics uniforms, so Bellamy is left to face the crowd.

A woman pushes through. She’s tall and sinewy, with a long brown braid that hangs over one shoulder, and wide brown eyes. He knows her name but is surprised by her face. She looks nothing like Clarke, even as he recognizes the same fierce determination in her dark eyes. “I’m Bellamy Blake,” he says, holds out a hand.

She blinks, but it’s enough for him to see her tell. “I know who you are,” she responds, but what she means is, “I know what you did.”

Still, she takes his hand in hers and shakes it firmly. “I’m Abby Griffin. I’ve heard you know my daughter.”

Bellamy almost laughs but settles for a hint of a smile instead. “Something like that.”

They drop their hands, but her sharp gaze doesn’t leave him and she crosses her arms to study him further. “Something’s wrong. Why isn’t Clarke with you?”

Bellamy glances around their camp, takes in the worn, exhausted faces. “Is there someplace private where we can talk?”  
Abby’s face falls a bit, but she straightens her shoulders and gestures to the main ship. “Follow me.” 

The ship is unremarkable: lots of seats, no weapons or supplies in sight, and Councilman Kane studying a map. That familiar knot tightens in Bellamy’s chest, so taut it almost chokes him. He remembers the night they floated his mother. Remembers the blank expression on Kane’s face. 

“Who are you?” Kane demands.

“Bellamy Blake,” he responds, crosses his arms over his chest so to show the knife in his belt. 

Kane’s face is still blank. “You tried to assassinate the chancellor.”

“He’s kept us alive too.” It’s Finn, that determined set to his jaw again as he pushes into the ship. “You should listen to what he says.”

Abby lays a hand on the councilman’s arm. “Kane, the kids are missing. Clarke is missing. Let him talk.”

Kane’s face softens a bit and he gestures to Bellamy. “The floor is yours.”

“The Grounders attacked two night ago,” Bellamy starts, leans over the map and points in the general direction of their camp. “We fended them off, but a new threat showed up.” He points to Mount Weather. “There’s another faction here. They’re the ones who took the hundred.”

“And you know this how?” Kane asks. “Why weren’t you with the others.”

“We didn’t make it back from our positions in time.” Finn takes a step forward, just a few inches behind Bellamy’s right shoulder. “But we saw it happen the next morning.”

It’s as much the truth as it is a lie and Bellamy doesn’t correct him. It’s enough that he has to work with the man who murdered his mother. He’s not making Octavia face him too. “We need to get them back.”

“We’ll help however we can,” Abby says. Her eyes are a bit glassy, but Bellamy recognizes the stubborn tilt of her chin. 

“Abby, come on. We have adults here. You’re not seriously letting a couple kids risk your daughter’s life?

Abby makes a show of studying the map before turning her gaze to Kane. Bellamy’s been on the other side of that glare before but he still doesn’t feel sorry for him. “They’ve done the hard work,” she says. “We sent them down here with nothing but the clothes on their backs and they survived. They made a life. They’ve come this far and they need to see it though.” She turns to Bellamy, stares up at him with Clarke’s eyes. “So what do we do?”

Three pairs of eyes fix on him but the feeling is no longer foreign. It’s no less scary either, but he’s carried the weight for sixteen years. He can do this. 

He stares at the map and contemplates his options. They can storm the mountain, or wait it out. Finn is a tracker – he can scout the mountain. Kane ran security – he can figure out weapons. Abby can keep them alive. He thinks of Clarke, the only lesson she taught him that really mattered: it’s not about doing what’s easy, but doing what’s right. 

“Okay,” he says as he turns to the map, Abby and Finn crowding in on either side. Kane watches from across the table, but isn’t arguing against him either. “This is how we bring our people home.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am terrible at spatial relations, so just work with me about distances between locations. Title courtesy of Grizzly Bear. Enjoy.


End file.
